


Damned Difficult Game

by devaway



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Credence Barebone Heals, Credence finds a home, Credence gets introduced to the wizarding world, I Tried, M/M, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Past Abuse, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protective Original Percival Graves, Protective Queenie Goldstein, Queenie is an enabler, This actually does have a plot, Tina and Queenie are lovely human beings, To Advance the Story, with Original Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:33:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12829482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devaway/pseuds/devaway
Summary: While recovering from his wounds in the hospital, Credence is paid a visit by none other than Mr. Graves. His first reaction is to scream. But then he finds out the Percival Graves he knew wasn't the real Percival Graves. And real Percival Graves has one hell of a smile.Credence realizes he would give anything to see it again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VulpesKorsak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpesKorsak/gifts).



There’s someone watching him.

Credence doesn’t react to the knowledge as it thunders through his mind. He feels it, a gaze that is heavy and thick like water closing around his head, but he doesn’t react. He pretends he does not notice. He allows himself to be preoccupied with the flurry of activity around him instead: the hurried movements of the nurses and the clipped, rigid steps of the Aurors as they approach. There’s always one nearby, wherever and whenever Credence looks. He doesn’t look often--these are the people that tried to kill him, and that fear, while dampened by confusion and the overstimulating environment, is still remembered. They arrive quickly, changing their posts, their strides all equal in length and timing. He doesn’t know any of their names, except for Tina, but he hasn’t seen her in a long while and he doubts he ever will. He didn’t think he harmed her, but his memories are fuzzy, broken things that only cut him when he tries to fit them back together. His life has become a million shards of shattered glass; he clings to the largest of the pieces even though it shreds him a little more each time he grasps it.

His hands become increasingly interesting the closer the Aurors get. He doesn’t want to look up, fearful of what he might see. He catches tiny glimpses from the corners of his eye, when he’s brave enough to change a glance. There’s nothing unusual about what he sees. But he still feels the weighty scrutiny of some unknown presence, and Credence doesn’t dare guess who it belongs to.

The past weeks have come and gone in a blur. Credence saw none of the people he knew before; Tina, the red-haired Mr. Scamander, and--if there’s a heaven Credence praises it for this--Mr. Graves are all gone, lost to him like dust thrown into the ocean. He thinks he should care more than he does, but everything is a bit numb. He does miss the solid presence Tina exuded. She was never stoic, never rigid like Ma was, like so many of the people he had known. Her own barely kept emotions were calming, because she was a woman of capability and kindness who didn’t try to fight her feelings. She was… successful, successful like Ma assured him he never would be. And she was successful without dampening who she was.

Credence picks at his nails, at the rough callouses that cover the inside of his hands. There are no red marks anymore, but old scars still remain. It seems even magic can’t fix the past. Credence frowns a little at the thought. 

Before the group reaches his room, the Aurors halt, their steps ceasing in unison. A nurse offers a hushed protest to a person in the group, and the reply is a cold type of silence. Credence feels it in his bones. He wonders if there’s some sort of  magic that gives extra weight to emotions, because right now, the air is thick with surprise and anger. A minute passes in uncomfortable quiet, and the air shifts to anger tinted with an over-awed incredulousness.

“I am going to see him.” A voice declares, punctuated with a strained emphasis on  _ am _ and  _ see him. _ There’s an extra force on the word  _ him, _ and Credence cannot believe the explosion of absolute dread that begins in his stomach and travels upward. He clenches his jaw to keep the wave of fear in check. He can’t assume… he can’t believe…

Credence looks up. In the hall, close enough to see exact features, stands a group of four Aurors and familiar figure in the middle. Credence doesn’t want to believe his eyes. These days had gone by like a dream, and so he hopes this is a dream, too. He hopes he’s hallucinating even as he blinks and clasps his hands together so hard he feels his nails tear through his flesh. Somehow he manages not to make a sound, so frozen by horror is he, but when Mr. Graves turns to the side and his eyes lock with Credence’s, the boy screams. Or rather, he tries to. The sound that issues from his mouth is a whimper and a snarl and a yell all in one. He sounds more like some sort of beast than a human and he scrambles back, pressing into the corner where the two walls meet his bed, willing them to open and swallow him whole. Mr. Graves remains in place, the Aurors all wearing equal expressions of shock, and the lights begin to flicker and pop around them. Credence breaks off into small sobs, waiting for the man to advance on him or for his Aurors to pull out their wands and end him right there. Neither thing happens. 

“With all due respect, sir.” The nurse Graves had been arguing with begins, “I told you it was better if you don’t see him.”

Graves frowns at the nurse’s snarky tone, glancing from her to Credence.

“Initial shock.” He tries to explain. “Looks like he’s fine now.”

The man takes a step toward the room and Credence squeaks a protest, bending over at the middle just as the one window in his hospital room explodes inward. The shards bounce off of iridescent bubbles that form around Graves and his Aurors, as harmless as a hatpin to a dragon. But the underscored piece of unspoken information is that, contained or not, Credence’s uncontrolled power  _ can _ be dangerous (not like any of them didn’t know that). Credence feels it in his gut for the first time since he woke up, dazed and bleeding, and he almost wants to let it go. He fights it, even though the taste of destruction sounds so good, because he does want to live and these people haven’t killed him yet; he really doesn’t want to give them a reason-- _ another _ reason.

Hunched over on the bed, Credence rocks back and forth, gritting his teeth together to suppress the desire for mayhem. He squeezes his eyes shut and recites the Twenty-Third Psalm over and over in his head, mouthing the words to himself.

_ “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,  I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff--they comfort me… they comfort me…” _

Credence breaks off the prayer and repeats those three words over and over, until he forgets to move his lips and the sounds grow foreign in his head. He hears without listening the voice of Mr. Graves speaking to the nurse.

“I, ah, suppose you’re right.”

“Director Graves, I’ve watched this boy for two weeks now. He isn’t ready. And if I may be so blunt, you aren’t either.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from the Aurors, followed by a half-hearted scoff. The nurse clicks her tongue.

“You need rest as well. Forcing this won’t be good for any of us. I don’t want the building collapsing down around me and I don’t want the Director of Magical Law Enforcement keeling over on my floor.”

There is silence so thick Credence wonders if the Aurors and Mr. Graves had choked on it. After a moment, he lifts his head slowly, the outright urge to murder and destroy gone. He sees the nurse with her hands on her hips and Mr. Graves failing to be imposing. Credence thinks this must be the first time that has ever happened before.

The Director gives up with a sigh and there’s a lost expression etched into the somewhat sallow-looking skin of his face. It dawns on Credence that he’s never seen Mr. Graves look so… defeated. There was color to his skin before, whereas now, he appears dim, like a light about to go out. Credence takes to analyzing him as he hadn’t before, out of fear. There’s something amiss, and Credence feels it just as he felt the man’s gaze earlier. Credence sweeps his eyes up and down Mr. Graves’s form, noting the thinness that wasn’t there before. There are hollows in his cheeks deep enough to seem like bruises, and then it all connects.

One name that had been continually whispered throughout Credence’s stay in the hospital was  _ Grindelwald. _ He was a dark wizard, an evil without chance of redemption, and he had used a child to try and start a war. It didn’t take long for Credence to realize that child was him, yet, his mind continued to lump Graves and Grindelwald together. People had aliases, he knew. It was easiest to imagine Grindelwald  _ was _ Graves, and Graves, Grindelwald. Now, Credence sees he was wrong. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open at the prospect.

It is at this moment that Mr. Graves-- _ not  _ Grindelwald--again looks to Credence. The man’s expression is one of remorse, maybe, but Credence cannot say for sure because regardless of the identity mix-up he had just sorted through, Credence has no intention of trusting him. 

Then, Graves smiles, just a slight movement, a half-stretch of the lips, and Credence freezes. He furrows his brow and looks away, because that smile was the last thing he expected to see on the face of the man that used him to murder and hurt--but this Mr. Graves is not  _ that _ Mr. Graves. Credence looks up again, and the smile is still there, framed by tired eyes and hair that hadn’t looked that grey on Grindelwald. The boy tilts his head, unsure of what Mr. Graves is expecting him to do. Murder him, maybe, or turn into a cloud of swirling black mist and escape through the window.

But the strangest thing is, Credence notices that when his eyes meet Mr. Graves’s, that painful gnawing of corrupted power is still and quiet in the hollow of his chest. There’s a sense of genuineness in the depths of the older man’s eyes that Credence had never seen before when the man’s face was a mask for Grindelwald. 

So Credence smiles back, knowing he looks a sight. The Director of Magical Law Enforcement’s grin widens and becomes a bit lopsided. That, Credence thinks, is a real smile.

“Alright.” Graves says, turning back to the nurse. “If anything happens with him, send for me.”

“Director, I don’t think--”

“I don’t care what you think, Miss Ermine.” The lightheartedness that had once been present in the room dissipates, and the Aurors stiffen at the Director’s words. “If  _ anything happens _ , you tell me immediately. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The nurse nods.

Graves turns to his Aurors and jerks his head back in the direction they came. The group marches away, and Credence thinks he hears Mr. Graves grumble about not needing an escort in a MACUSA hospital, but the words fade into nothingness and Credence stares until he can no longer see the man or hear his voice.

“Are you alright?”

Credence jumps at the nurse’s closeness. He snaps his attention to her, unaware she had walked to his side. She raises an eyebrow.

“Y-yes, I’m… I’m fine.” He stammers. “A-are you alright?”

“Me?” Miss Ermine laughs. “Oh goodness, why would I not be alright?”

Credence doesn’t answer and she continues to chuckle while she cleans up the glass with her wand and forms it back into a window. He watches her do it, his amazement at magic not yet gone. He’d seen a little of it around the hospital, but most of it was a domestic type of magic: floating clipboards and pens that took dictation or hovering trays of food that delivered themselves to the patient’s bed. Credence is fascinated by the thought of making something broken whole again, and he wonders, mischievously, if he could break the window just to watch the nurse repair it again. Then he realizes how horrible that would be and red colors his face in shame.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Credence hums an affirmative, hoping it will make the nurse go away. Instead, he feels an extra weight on the side of his bed and glances up to see the young woman perched on the edge. His face reddens even more.

“I’ve not gotten to talk to you much.”

“Y-you want to?”

Miss Ermine shrugs. Credence hugs his knees to his chest, debating whether or not to explain that he wasn’t supposed to talk when he was under Ma’s care. Speaking recklessly was an awful sin, and Credence had, by the end, realized it wasn’t that hard to avoid. He just didn’t talk. It was safer that way.

“You’re a very interesting person, Credence Barebone. There are a lot of people who’d like to talk to you.”

“Why?” Credence stammers, not meeting the woman’s eyes. He tries not to flinch when she says his last name.

“Well, you’re the only person to have survived this long as an obscurial, and you also survived a direct attack by over a dozen senior Aurors. I think that makes you quite special.”

With the rate the conversation is going, Credence feels his face might catch fire soon.

“I’m not special.” He attests. Miss Ermine shrugs. She flips a curly strand of white hair from her eyes.

“Well that isn’t for me to judge, but most people don’t get a visit by the Director of Magical Law Enforcement unless they’ve done something really horrible.”

Credence begins to explain that he  _ has _ done really horrible things but the nurse cuts him off, waving her hand as if to dispel his prospective words.

“Especially when the Director should be  _ resting on leave _ .”

“W-what?”

Miss Ermine snorts and rolls her eyes. Once her gaze settles back on Credence, she points a finger at him.

“Don’t spread this around. Plenty of folks already know, but I don’t want to get scapegoated for spreading rumors, even if they aren’t rumors. Got it?”

Credence nods violently.

“Well,” A smirk paints Miss Ermine’s lips. “Director Graves should be nowhere near MACUSA anything right now because President Picquery insisted he ‘recover his health’ first. That means she kicked him off duty for a while.”

“W-why?” Credence asks, confused but wanting to know more, against his better judgement.

“Because Grindelwald really did him a doozy, if you know what I mean.”

Credence doesn’t know what she means, but he nods anyway, and seems to receive some form of approval from Miss Ermine. The nurse sniffs before she continues.

“This whole situation is just a big mess, you see. Though, and don’t tell anyone I admitted it, I’m glad to see Director Graves back. He may be a Mrs. Grundy but he does get things done, and well, when he came in, after Goldstein found him, he really looked horrible. I’m kinda surprised he has recovered this well, actually, in such short time.” Miss Ermine breaks off into thought, pursing her lips before shrugging her shoulders. “But what can you expect? He’s Director Graves!”

The nurse giggles at some joke Credence doesn’t have the faintest clue about. She remains lost in her mind, sitting on the edge of Credence’s bed. He doesn’t know if it’s appropriate for her to be this close. He doesn’t think so, but the door’s open and people mill about in the hall. No one looks into Credence’s room; they never have. 

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

“No. S-sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

“You said you wanted to talk to me.” Credence recalls.

“Well I’m not talking to the wall.” Miss Ermine huffs. She studies Credence for a moment, blinking rapidly and cocking her head. “You know, there really is something special about you. It took the Director’s attempted visit for me to finally realize it.”

Credence blushes and looks away. There are little half moons etched into his hands from earlier. He studies them and scratches at the little wells of dried blood.

“I’m not special.”

“Sure you are! I’ve never seen the Director smile before, and he smiled at you. That  _ has _ to count for something!”

The breath leaves Credence’s lungs as if was was drawn from him as he tries to understand what Miss Ermine is getting at. He stares at her, unable to discern the message behind her words and too afraid to let his mind guess.

“So you think I c-could make him smile again?” Credence asks. The thought of seeing Mr. Graves’s smile is an immediate incentive to do… whatever it his he’s there to do. Credence can’t explain it, and he isn’t sure if he wants to, but the calm and security that rushed over him at the upturn of Mr. Graves’s lips and at the crinkles in the corners of his eyes elicits a strong... need. Credence almost wishes the man had stayed. He almost wishes Miss Ermine hadn’t shooed him away.

The young woman’s surprised gasp draws Credence from his thoughts. She’s grinning sillily at him, eyes wide and open like big brown saucers. 

“For crying out loud, you really are something special.”

“What did I say? Did I say something wrong?”

“You just said you wanted to make Director Graves  _ smile _ . I think you’re the first person ever to say something like that!”

“O-oh.” Credence’s shoulders fall. He mentally kicks himself. He’s such an idiot. He shouldn’t have said that. Why in heaven’s name did he say that? Of all the questions that had been burning in his mind for the past weeks, why did he have to voice  _ that _ one?

Miss Ermine pokes a finger under Credence’s chin and lifts his face to hers. There’s a bright and fiery amusement burning beneath the surface of her skin. Credence wonders if that’s her soul, and if it’s normal for a woman--a witch--to be so outspoken. 

“No, this will be fun.” She says with a conspiratory wink. Credence only shakes his head. “I want to see if you can do it.”

“What?”

“Make Director Graves smile again, silly. This can be like a game. It’ll be a damned difficult game, but oh Merlin will it be worth it!”

Credence flinches first at the curse and then at the realization of what he just got himself into.

“How do you know that Director Graves will even come back?”

“Oh don’t worry sweetheart, he’ll be back.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence can't stay in the hospital forever, so where is he going to go?  
> Enter some familiar faces.

Director Graves doesn’t come back. A week passes in silent, anxious excitement, especially with Miss Ermine slipping Credence notes in his food, sometimes in his drinks (one time it was a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows that spelled out “Graves is a sore loser” as soon as Credence’s hand touched it). But after a week and a half without a visit, the initial anticipation bleeds away into apathy. Credence knows he was wrong to think the Director would have anything to do with him. He probably just thought Credence’s haircut was bad… or something else equally as demeaning. He was probably thinking about the incompetence of his Aurors: _this is the kid you had trouble with?_

Despite Credence’s ever growing doubt, Miss Ermine sees him every day and manages to lift his spirits, even if just a little. He hadn’t known before, but Miss Ermine is the head nurse in charge of his care. When he learned this, Credence felt a sudden pang of guilt that he had never bothered to watch the nurses who came into his room. He wondered, horrified, how many times he’d seen her before paying attention to her. She brushed off the subject with a stern remark about how guilt would impede his recovery and neither mentioned it again.

They don’t speak about their game, but they speak of other things, and Credence finds he actually has a lot to say now that he’s allowed an opinion. Miss Ermine and one of the other nurses, who instructed Credence to call him Aleksander, take their time to fill Credence full of the hottest gossip of the wizarding world. It all seems so strange, but Credence can hardly object once the two get started. He’s learned more about pop culture than he ever knew before, and the fact that magic is involved makes everything more intense. While he finds it ludicrous, he enjoys it immensely.

Day by day he feels himself changing. He’s more outspoken, quicker to make a joke or crack a smile. Miss Ermine tells him he looks better. Credence feels better. Though he isn’t allowed out of the room, she’ll carry in her compact mirror so he can see himself when she says he looks particularly ravishing. He doesn’t believe he’s “ravishing” in the slightest, but when he sees himself in Miss Ermine’s pocket mirror, he does admit he looks nothing like himself--or he him he knew before.

“You hair’s growing out, you’re regaining your weight, and you’re smiling, Credence!”

Credence blushes at her words.

“Y-yes I suppose so.”

“I’ll have to keep an even better eye on you.” Miss Ermine bemoans, snapping her compact mirror closed. Credence feels a quick and painful dread come over him. Why would she need to watch him more? Is she afraid that he’ll escape now that he’s in better health?

“I’m fine, Miss Ermine.”

The nurse shoots him a steely stink-eye at the Miss part of Miss Ermine. Credence corrects it: “I-I’m fine, Ermine.”

“That sounds better. It even rhymes.” The young woman nods. “You’re most certainly fine, Credence. You’re more than fine. You’re adorable. And I’m afraid I’ll have to get a bigger wand to keep your visitors at bay.”

“Visitors?” Credence asks, incredulous. “I haven’t gotten any visitors.” He decides not to mention how, according to Miss Ermine, he should have gotten a visit from Director Graves by now. The young woman picks up on his unvoiced sadness.

“You have, actually, they’ve just never gotten to see you. President Picquery’s orders, I’m afraid. You’ve had reporters, professors, and even some weird fanatics try to see you. Those who went the legal way appealed to Director Graves, who’s still on leave of course, so the requests went to President Picquery, who denied all of them. The ones who thought they could sneak in had to deal with me.”

Miss Ermine jams her hands onto her hips and stands as if daring Credence to take a swing at her. It’s really the last thing in the world he wants to do. The woman is tall, trim, but with wide shoulders that scream strength, and stern with everyone... besides Credence. He hadn’t realized how different her attitude was toward him until he saw how she interacted with Aleksander; the thought that someone might like him, truly enjoy his company, brings heat to Credence’s cheeks. But he doesn’t tell her that.

“But…” Credence leaves out the subject, confident that Miss Ermine knows enough to understand what he’s saying. She sighs and shakes her head, but kicks the door closed with her foot and sits on the edge of the bed.

“The Director came back three days ago. I kicked him out again.”

Credence stares, dumbfounded at her confession, before he musters enough courage to squeak: “Why?”

“Because I’ve known Percival Graves for a very long time and he’s a man who puts responsibility to others far, far above responsibility for himself. I think… Credence I think you’re ready but I’m not sure Director Graves is.”

Credence takes a moment to mull that over. Miss Ermine leans in and brushes a few strands of long hair from his eyes.

“I think, I just want to see a familiar face.” He finally says. Then, with an apology written all over his features, he looks back to the nurse. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed being with you! I-I’ve really grown fond of your company. I don’t mean to b-be inconsiderate! You’ve done so much for me and I never knew you before! I don’t… please don’t take it the wrong way!”

Miss Ermine smiles, dark eyes a bit watery, before pulling Credence into a hug. He tenses at the unexpected contact, but it’s nice to be held. He places his hands gingerly on her back, unsure of what to do. Miss Ermine chuckles as she pulls away.

“Oh Credence Barebone, I couldn’t be sure this would work at all, but I suppose that’s why I’m a nurse and President Picquery is, well, President.”

“What do you mean?” Credence asks, arching back from the woman on his bed.

“Don’t get angry, Credence. This was a test. It was a safety measure to make sure you weren’t a murderous dark force filled with vengeance for wizard and witch-kind. But you’ve passed! You’ve done so well!”

Credence studies the slight puffiness around Miss Ermine’s glassy eyes and decides he is angry. He’s angry at being played like a child, like an idiot, like a criminal. He’s angry he still doesn’t understand all of the things Miss Ermine says to him. But even as darkness pounds inside his skull, Miss Ermine squeezes his hand and he realizes that he can’t imagine harming her, or Aleksander, or Tina or Director Graves. He knows the kindness the nurse offered him wasn’t manufactured. The messages in his meals were not planned to trick him into liking her. Her smiles and mirrors and _hugs_ were all of her own design. So Credence musters a half grin and shoves the darkness down, back where it belongs.

“T-thank you.” He says.

“Alright.” Miss Ermine nods, wiping her eyes on her long white sleeve. She stands. “I have to go now. You won’t be staying here much longer.”

“What? Where will I go?” Credence leans forward, hoping he won’t find himself on the street, or in a factory, or missing memories of the only good to happen in his life.

“You have no reason to worry. We’ve already been thinking of where you can go.”

“We?” Credence echoes.

“You’ll see.”

Miss Ermine slips out the door. Credence stares after her, lost. There’s static in his ears and the lights overhead flicker, though they don’t crack. Credence swallows and leans back against his pillows, tugging at the hem of his blanket. His emotions whisper to him and his features cycle through sadness, fear, relief, and disbelief. For almost four weeks he’d lived in a magical hospital. He can’t say he wanted to be there, at least not at the beginning, but now, he can’t imagine staying anywhere else. Especially a place without magic; just the thought of it now makes Credence’s chest tight.

He doesn’t notice the door open until a figure blocks out the hallway light.

“Hello, Credence.”

Tina stands in the middle of the room, clutching at her coat nervously, though her eyes are bright and wide when Credence catches them. She shifts her weight from leg to leg and smiles, obviously unsure of whether or not to move closer.

“M-miss Goldstein?”

“Ah, no. Tina, please. I told you that before--” Tina cuts herself off and bites her lip. Worry flickers over her face and she wads the coat even worse between her hands.

“Okay. Hello, Tina.” Credence says. He wants to run to her, but he doesn’t think he should. He doesn’t want to move and have her mistake it as an attack. He doesn’t want to ruin this before it’s even begun… whatever this even is.

“Nurse Ermine tells me you’ve done wonderfully.”

“It’s the environment.” Credence holds out his hands. “They’re not red anymore.”

Tina looks from Credence’s hands to his face. She pinches her nose and looks down. Even from a few feet away Credence can see her trying not to cry. Her eyebrows are drawn together and she blinks a few times before speaking again.

“You’re not going to get hurt anymore.” Tina steps forward, pauses, and then moves fully to Credence’s side. “I promise. After everything… you’re special, Credence, and we’re going to protect you.”

_You’re special_. Those words are sour, despite their meaning. Credence remembers the way Graves-not-Graves would say them. It was a fake assurance, but the closeness, the warmth of his hands under… Grindelwald’s… it gave those words a depth that masked their fakeness. He can’t fight the way he flinches, and Tina seems to realize her mistake, because she wraps an arm around his shoulder and draws him closer to her.

“I’m very sorry, Credence. I should have done something.”

“You lost your job because of me.” Credence murmurs. “You tried.”

“I’m going to try harder this time.” Tina says. She doesn’t bother to ask where he heard that, and Credence assumes she knows well enough Miss Ermine’s penchant for gossip.

“So are you going to send me somewhere?”

Tina pulls away and scratches her head. Color rises to her cheeks before she swallows and looks Credence in the eye.

“Well, there’s an issue, but I thought that, well maybe, you could stay with me and my sister, Queenie, at least for while.”

The words smack Credence across the face. He can’t help but stare, dumbly, and Tina looks away. Her coat is going to need ironed by the end of this, Credence notices. His gaze follows the choppy movements of her hands, and he can’t find the breath to speak.

“I know it might sound odd, but I promise you’d be safe with us. And it would only be for a short time, until we find something else for you.”

“I know I’d be safe with you. But I don’t think it would be proper, living with two women.” Credence admits. Tina huffs, and he worries he’s offended her.

“Then you could stay with Director Graves.”

“No!”

Tina jumps at the fervor in Credence’s voice. She finds him with his hand outstretched, his face contorted into an expression of fear, and maybe shame. She licks her lips.  
“I thought that’s how you would react.” She says, more to herself than Credence. “I told them it would be a bad idea. I don’t know how President Picquery even considered it.”

“P-President Picquery considered it?”

“Well, yes. I was able to, umm, interrupt them when they were discussing their decision. I didn’t think you would like living with the person who… I’m sorry. I might sound inconsiderate. But Grindelwald used you while wearing Graves’s face, and I couldn’t imagine you would want to be around him.”

“I-I…” Credence lowers his arm and folds his hands together, studying them. Does he want to see Graves again? Yes, he does, for the game, and for the way his eyes calmed the swirling void of fury inside him. Should he say that to Tina? Did she know he’d already met the real Director?

“It’s okay, Credence. If you don’t want to stay with either of us, I can find something else for you.”

“No, no. I think I can stay with you, for a while. A-and maybe, if it’s okay, I can stay with the Director later, if he allows it.” Credence suggests. He finishes the sentence with a whisper, afraid to meet Tina’s eyes. At her silence, his face begins to burn. Was that the wrong suggestion to make? Panic starts to bubble up in his chest.

“Actually, Credence, that’s a very good idea. And I wish I had thought of it.”

From the door, a familiar voice fills the room. Credence starts and Tina whirls. Before them, Mr. Graves leans against the door, President Picquery standing tall and regal behind him. There is a fondness in her expression as she regards Credence, but Credence cannot help but allow Graves to drag his gaze to him. He isn’t smiling, but the potent darkness Credence remembers is nowhere to be seen. The deep red scarf that is twisted around his neck makes him appear less pale, and his skin does have more color since the last time Credence saw him; there are still rings beneath his eyes. His face is thinner, but he doesn’t seem to be in pain. He regards Credence with a cool, intelligent attention, and the bloom of warmth under Credence’s skin only grows hotter.

“Director, I thought that you were--”

“I allowed him, Miss Goldstein.” Picquery interjects. “I heard Mr. Barebone was recovering nicely, and with Director Graves having already made his acquaintance,” she shoots a pointed look at Graves, who ignores it. “I thought there no harm in allowing him audience as you and Credence make your decisions.”

Tina hums, unsatisfied, and draws even nearer to Credence. His eyes flick to her for a moment until he understands she’s trying to comfort him.

“I-I’m not afraid of Director Graves.” He says. Tina remains close to him, and Graves pushes off from the doorframe.

“That is good, especially if you decide to stay with me.” The Director pauses at the foot of Credence’s bed. He hesitates, searching for a sign that his presence is unwanted, but Credence gives him none. Graves leans down, his palms pressing into the mattress.

“Director!” Tina growls. “Please, don’t try to intimidate him!”

“I’m not intimidating him.” Graves dismisses, just as Credence assures Tina:

“He’s not intimidating me.”

A rough, high laugh resounds from the hall and President Picquery twists to glare over her shoulder. Credence hears Miss Ermine muttering apologies through her gasps for breath, and Credence can’t help but smile. Graves raises an eyebrow.

“I see you’ve become quite attached to Nurse Ermine.”

“She’s a very nice woman.”

“She always has been.” Graves agrees. Before Credence can ask him more, he stands. “I’ll see you in the future, Credence. It was my pleasure to finally meet you.” He nods at Tina and moves toward the door. There is a strange tremble in his gait, and when he reaches Picquery’s side, he grasps her shoulder and leans against her for a moment. The President keeps a firm hold on his upper arm, seemingly unsurprised. Tina, however, gasps loudly and Graves pushes off from the President’s side with a low growl.

“Don’t patronize me, Goldstein.”

Tina stands dumbfounded, her fist to her mouth.

“No, Director, I didn’t mean--”

Without another word, Graves sweeps out the door, legs steady, though Credence wonders if it’s from sheer determination, or sheer spite. He knows the feeling, and it lumps heavy in his throat. A man like Graves would never want to show weakness. Credence never wanted to, either. For a second his hands sting with remembered pain, and then Tina’s profuse apologies to President Picquery draw him from his memories. The words are fuzzy, and he chooses not to pay attention to them. He can’t shake the sight of the Graves, the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, barely making it out his door. Credence wonders if that was the reason for him leaning against the doorframe, for bracing himself on Credence’s bed.

When Credence looks back up, Picquery catches his eyes and inclines her head.

“Goodbye, Credence. Goldstein will keep me updated on your situation.” Lower, she says: “You should never feel responsible for what has happened in the past. Remember this.”

Then the President is gone, and Tina sighs.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Credence.”

“I know.”

“Well, if, umm, you want to, you can come back with me. Or, we can wait until tomorrow.”

“Umm, I…” Credence glances out the window (the one Miss Ermine had repaired what seems like an eternity ago), and sees that shadows have become solid. Dusk has turned into night, and when Credence answers, he realizes he’s more tired than he has been in weeks.

“Tomorrow.” He says. Tina nods, smiling. She walks to his side and bends down, than pauses, unsure of what to do. She give him a rigid hug, but her smile still remains as she straightens.

“It won’t be bad.” She assures.

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Okay, good. And my sister is, well, she can be tiring, but she means well and…” Tina suddenly begins to cry, and Credence stares in confusion. “Oh I should have done this before. I can’t believe it took the destruction of the city to see how blind I am!”

“No, please, don’t feel bad!” He practically yells. “Y-you said you were going to try harder, and you have. I’ll never be able to repay you for this.”

Tina’s dabbing a handkerchief at her eyes when she tells him: “You’ll never have to repay me, or any of us. The entire world failed you, Credence. It wasn’t your fault.”

“O-okay.” Credence’s acceptance comes out as a stammer. He’s being torn in a million directions, but Tina is still there, crying over him, and Graves isn’t the horrible person Credence once believed him to be. For once in his life, Credence is safe. He has people that care for him, even if he doesn’t fully know why, and that is all he ever could have asked for.

Tina nods and grins and cries as she bids him goodbye, promising him she’ll be by in the morning, and that Credence can have a home with her as long as he needs. Once she’s gone, the quiet in his room is heavy. He collapses back against the pillows, craving sleep but wanting to stay awake and imagine how this life might be, now that everything’s changed.

A sharp knock on his door alerts him to Miss Ermine’s presence, and before he knows it, she’s pulled him into an embrace, and this time, he hugs her back.

“Oh sweetheart, I think I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“It will be fine, though. Tina’s a good girl, and Graves, well, he means the best. Keep that in mind when he gets on your nerves.”

“I doubt he will.” Credence says, and Miss Ermine giggles as if she knows from experience that Graves will, indeed, get on his nerves.

“You deserve a good life, Credence. And I think you’re going to get it.”

Credence doesn’t say anything to that, because he can’t. He wants to believe it’s true; he almost can. The nightmares he used to have are gone, and his sleep is healthy and refreshing for the first time in as long as he can remember. But, there is still darkness that sometimes weasels in. Sometimes it’s his darkness, sometimes it’s the darkness of the Church. For so long, he was told he was worthless, and that notion is a hard one to shake. A good life? Is he even deserving of something like that?

Credence hopes so.

He really hopes so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I was informed that, canonically, Credence is 18. So just hold on, because I had a reason for saying he's 17. Also, I really like the idea of Graves wearing different scarves depending on different factors (outfit, mood, whatever). And Grindelwald really did hurt him, so the issue(s) he has aren't being faked. Poor Graves :(  
> Anyway, I typed this fast so any mistakes are mine alone!  
> Comment/kudos makes me smile!  
> (And it will probably be a while before the next chapter. The only reason this is out is because I was in a writing mood last night and had part of it done from yesterday.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence finds a home, one that he can carry with him, and one with two odd but loving sisters. New developments come to light. There's a reason he's there, but no one will tell him... yet.

Tina’s home is nothing like Credence thought it would be--not that he had been thinking about what Tina’s home might look like. It simply took him by surprise, especially the way she halted him with her arm across his chest as soon as they walked into the building. Her finger is on her lips and she glances around, as if waiting for someone to pop from the shadows like Gra—Grindelwald used to do when paying Credence a visit. Credence looks around too, though he knows it’s probably in vain; Tina would see a mile away what Credence wouldn’t until he was smacked against a wall. The thought is not comforting in the slightest.

“Okay.” Tina whispers, lowering her arm. “Walk lightly on the stairs, as lightly as you can.”

Credence nods and remains silent. He ascends the stairs first, Tina keeping watch from behind. He has no idea why such measures are needed just to walk into an apartment, and a heavy notion weighs on his shoulders: maybe he shouldn’t have accepted Tina’s offer. But would living with Graves be any safer after what happened? Credence thinks no, it wouldn’t. So he takes the oddness in stride and rationalizes that it isn’t the strangest thing to happen to him in the recent weeks, not by a longshot. That thought isn’t exactly comforting, though.

They’re both halfway up, Credence a little farther than halfway, when a shaky voice rings out through the stairwell.

“Tina? I’m hoping that’s you, Tina.”

“Yes, it’s me!” Tina answers, motioning for Credence to continue. He hesitates but then obeys. Four steps later, he manages to land on a squeaky board. His eyes shoot to Tina and she masks the noise with a horrible, over exaggerated cough.

“That better not be a man, Tina.”

“Of course not! You know me, always alone, looking to stay that way. I just, ah, slipped. I’m feeling a little under the weather.” The Auror stammers. She adds another cough at the end, just for good measure.

“Mhm.” Comes the reply. Nothing after that is said. Tina waves her hand at Credence and he creeps the remainder of the way, glancing behind him every so often, just to make sure everything’s still alright. Tina smiles up at him in the way Credence knows she’ll explain later, and together they pause at the door.

The red in Credence’s cheeks is not from embarrassment, not this time. His breathing is more labored than he would have liked it to be, and Tina casts him a suspicious look, though he shakes his head to try and ward her concern away. It doesn’t work; he didn’t think it would.

“Are you alright, Credence?”

“Fine, just not used to walking this much. I-in the hospital, I mean. I used to walk a lot when I had to… hand out fliers.”

Tina pauses and looks at him like Credence had just admitted he’s dying. Her brows arch and her face falls. Credence can almost hear the thoughts running through her head, worrying like a real mother would. And then Credence blanches at his own thought—Tina is certainly not his mother.

He watches Tina’s lips as they move, wanting to speak, but no sound comes out. She thinks with expressions (that’s one thing Credence finds interesting about her), features shifting between concern and mortification. Finally, as if all her energy has been spent by the conflicting reactions, she sighs.

“I’ll have a talk with the Director about other modes of transportation.”

“Can’t you...” Credence looks around, making sure there’s no one to overhear. “I think it’s called  _ apparition. _ ”

“You’ve done that before?” Tina squeals, and then looks around in sudden horror. She unlocks the door and pushes Credence inside in one swift movement. He stumbles in and then whirls to face her, worried he made her angry. Tina stands, shocked, her back pressed against the door and arms spread across it. “There’s no possible way you could have--”

The words Tina would have said are drowned out by another voice, high and singsongy which Credence can’t help but turn to find.

“Teenie? Are you home, sweets?” 

The first time Credence sees Queenie Goldstein, he knows without a doubt he’s destined to like her. She flows into the room like she’s walking on happiness, and her smile is so bright Credence overlooks the fact that she’s wearing a slip and nothing else. Her hair bounces and her eyes glitter and Credence realizes he’s a bit stunned--no, not a bit, he  _ is _ stunned by the woman before him. She emanates magic like it’s flowing through her blood, and when she offers him her hand and greets him with his own name, Credence is unsurprised (and that is surprising).

“ _ Queenie. _ ” Tina scolds. “Clothes! You know, we talked about this!” The tone of her sister’s voice is half-pleading, half-amused. Queenie arches her shoulders as if letting Tina’s words literally roll off her back. Her grin never dims and Credence becomes aware that she still has his hand. And he doesn’t quite want to pull away.

“It’s fine.” Queenie giggles. “If you’re uncomfortable with me touching you, I won’t. Cross my heart!” She pauses and watches Credence intently, the sharp rise of his chest and violent bloom of red on his cheeks. “You’ve got nothing to be worried about. You won’t embarrass us in the slightest. Yes, it will be odd having a man around the house but Teenie and I discussed it and we’re sure we’ll be fine!”

Credence starts to speak, but Queenie addresses the comment before it’s even out of his mouth.

“Oh, well that’s a change of plan.” She turns to Tina. “You didn’t tell me we’re fighting Percival for him.”

Tina glowers at the comment. She tosses her coat over the back of a chair and there’s a controlled anger in the movement. Not at Credence, not even at her sister, but at the situation. Queenie doesn’t need to listen in to know what she’s thinking: Tina should have been able to find better accommodations for Credence after all he’s been through, but the system works as the system works and with Grindelwald in custody, all of MACUSA has been working overtime. Over their overtime. And the Director isn’t back yet, which leaves three senior Aurors sharing the position and President Picquery glancing over her shoulder in case of an “oversight.” Tina simply shakes her head.

“We’re not fighting him. No one is fighting over Credence. He gets to choose.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!” Queenie exclaims, squeezing Credence’s hand and echoing his thoughts. She leans down and whispers in his ear: “That’s a great type of freedom, not to mention it’s the Director of Magical Law Enforcement contending for your company.”

Credence finds a certain floorboard suddenly interesting as he tries and fails to lose the image of Mr. Graves leaned over his bed, searching his face. He wonders if the man would be that… invasive if Credence decided to stay with him.

Queenie breaks off into giggles, sliding her hand from Credence’s and hovering it, ladylike, over her mouth. She catches Tina’s glare and the lost look that weighs heavy in Credence’s eyes before she stifles the laughter.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to see that.”

“What did you do?” 

“Nothing, Teenie! You know how it is and… oh. Oh! It actually happened!” Queenie succumbs to another round of tinkling laughs and Credence looks to Tina, who’s still focused on her sister.

“What  _ actually _ happened?”

“Percival was on Credence’s bed.”

Credence goes wide-eyed and Tina stands rigid until she realizes Queenie meant yesterday evening.

“Queenie, I’m not sure Credence would have shared that with you. You shouldn’t read him like that. It’s… rude. Beyond rude.”

“W-what do you mean? She’s  _ reading _ me?”

“My sister is, among other things,” Tina rolls her eyes. “A Legilimens. She can hear your thoughts.”

“It’s not that dramatic!” Queenie flutters her hand. “I mean, yes. I hear thoughts, but it’s easiest on those with strong emotions. It’s as much feeling as it is knowledge. And you, Credence, are feeling a large amount of everything. I can’t help it. I’m sorry if it distresses you.”

Credence looks between the sisters and then down at his shoes. He already likes Queenie. He doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. But the image she’d seen wasn’t something he wanted to share--Tina was right. And Tina, even though she was there, didn’t have the vantage point Credence had. She didn’t get the  _ feeling _ of Graves’s eyes and the stubborn power lurking behind them. Queenie, as far as Credence knows, did.  _ He _ doesn’t know how to feel about that. A flurry of thoughts rush through his mind, thoughts of confusion and hatred. Ma had whipped him when she caught his eyes lingering places she--and the Lord--deigned they shouldn’t have been. She didn’t get to read his thoughts, though, and Credence is glad for that… but Queenie can. And Credence knows she heard  _ all _ of that.

He can’t bring himself to look at her, or at Tina. There’s a sharp heat behind his eyes and he tries to stifle it. Credence doesn’t want to cry. Not here. He just got here.

“I made breakfast.” Queenie suddenly announces, pulling Credence and Tina by their arms into the kitchen. Credence stumbles, his steps heavy, but Queenie is strong and her grip is iron on him. He wants to say something, because he knows she heard him. She had to have. She doesn’t show it, though, and so Credence decides it would be best for all of them if he were not to mention it either.

He stops dead in his tracks at the table spread with food. In the hospital, his meals were what he used to dream of. They were hot, filling, and tastier than anything Ma ever came up with. Her policy was utilitarian, and even then only at the best times. There were days when a simple bowl of runny oatmeal was a feast. But what is spread before him now  _ is _ a feast, an actual one. Cooking it must have taken hours. Did Queenie stay up all night to do this for him?

“No, I didn’t, honey. There’s magic, remember? It makes mundane things like cooking so much easier. Go ahead and sit down.”

Tina shoots Credence a knowing glance as they settle in across from each other. Queenie claims the head of the table. 

“Take your pick, Credence.”

“I-I don’t really…”

“Alright, I’ll do it for you!” Queenie coos. Credence’s plate begins to levitate as Queenie shuttles it over to multiple dishes. The food rises to meet it and she names off each item as it jumps onto the plate. “Here we have grapefruit with honey, fried potatoes, shredded wheat with warm milk, and muffins. Do you want marmalade on the muffins? I don’t usually like it, but Tina prefers it. I didn’t make eggs because I didn’t know if you like eggs. There’s so many ways to make them and I wasn’t sure which you would eat and which you wouldn’t, so I just decided we could skip them this time.”

“Umm.” Is all Credence manages. Tina lays her head down on the table and he can’t tell if she’s laughing or about to lose her temper.

“Queenie.” She begins, voice muffled by the tablecloth. “You didn’t make those muffins, did you?”

“Now’s not the time, Teenie.”

Tina groans and it sounds something painful, but Queenie keeps heaping food onto Credence’s plate--or the food keeps heaping itself onto his plate.

“So do you like eggs?” Queenie asks, folding her hands under her chin. Her wand sticks out in an awkward angle and Credence wonders if it’s safe to point wands like that. Then the plate touches down before Credence and he stares at it like it might eat him. Wouldn’t that be a turn of events?

“I haven’t had them… much.”

“Oh, honey.”

The pottery crock from which honey had heaped itself over the grapefruit responds to the call, rising from the table and drifting toward Queenie. She sighs and with a pointed flick of her wand denies it the right to fly.

“Not you.”

The honey pot smacks the table, narrowly missing the other plates. It doesn’t break, miraculously enough, but Tina shoots up from the table to glower at her sister. Then she turns to Credence, and against his best efforts, he laughs. Coming from him, the sound is foreign, the action strange in his throat. He tries to choke it down, knowing full well how uncouth laughing at the table is. Tina gapes for a minute until Queenie begins to laugh, all bubbly and spritely with an air of refinement. When Tina gives in, her laugh is more honest, coming in gulps of air that occasionally snort out her nose. That makes Credence laugh harder, and he doesn’t try to hide it, which makes Queenie laugh louder, and Tina barely manages to breathe. 

It’s quite a feat that the three of them even manage to eat breakfast. In between snippets of conversation and bouts of laughter (mostly on the sisters’ side, though Credence smiles and chuckles too), Credence fights the urge to eat everything before him. It all tastes so good and there’s so much of it. He paces himself, chanting reassurances that he doesn’t need to gorge on good food because it isn’t  _ going anywhere _ .

When Queenie reaches over to pat his hand, it could be because she’s read his thoughts, because she knows his insecurities--that whole long list that Credence used to recite at night, and still does, out of habit. There’s a sincerity in Queenie’s eyes that fill Credence with a warm notion of belonging, which is welcome and horrifying in equal measure. Still, he can’t help but ask himself: is this what family is like?

“Yes.” 

The answer to the unspoken question hangs heavy in the air, but it’s not a bad sort of heavy. Instead, it’s like two warm blankets piled on Credence’s chest. Tina doesn’t ask what the question was her sister had answered, but by the way she smiles shyly into her food, Credence thinks she probably has a good idea.

By the time the three decide breakfast is over, it’s mid-morning. Credence offers to help with the dishes before he catches his mistake. Queenie waves him off with a kind smile and leans back in her chair. When Tina stands, there’s an air of finality about it.

“Credence, would you like to see your, ah, room?”

Flicking between the sisters, still barely able to believe this isn’t all a dream, Credence nods.

“Okay, well, this way.”

“I, you know, really mean to thank you.” He stammers as they leave the kitchen behind. Already the clinking of dishes washing themselves sounds throughout the house. It’s a nice sound, domestic, and it reminds Credence of good and bad times in equal measure. He liked helping his sisters do the dishes. Modesty usually tried to make a game out of it, using clean plates as points. The faster they worked, the more points they got. It was efficient and even Ma had condoned it, until one day Modesty was going too fast with the rag and a plate had slipped out of her hands and shattered on the floor. That put an end to their dishwashing game; luckily enough, Ma hadn’t been watching closely and Credence managed to accept blame on Modesty’s part. She, in turn, snuck him crackers for the three days he wasn’t allowed dinner.

“There’s nothing to thank, Credence. Really, I should be apologizing to you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because you… I had tried but I just…” Tina trails off and they pause before a pale mint colored door. She brushes her hair behind her ear and sighs, chewing her lip. “You know, let’s just put that all behind us, okay? I mean, all that anger and pain, it’s in the past now. We shouldn’t try to carry it with us. It belongs there, where we can forget about it.”

Credence tries not to convey his anxiety over her words. It’s too similar to what Grindelwald had promised him. If only he’d be good, if only he’d do what he was told… Instead of speaking, Credence nods, because he doesn’t trust his voice at the moment.

“Good, okay. Good.”

Tina sighs again before opening the door, but this time it’s a sigh of relief. Credence sees it in her movements as she stands aside and gestures inward. He follows her command, and the doorframe shimmers as he steps past it. 

He’d never imagined in depth what kind of a place he’d like to live in because the effort seemed so futile. Even if he were to get out of the Church, he’d be left to the streets of New York, and the blandness of the tall, cinder block apartment buildings was just one of many things he hated about the city. But he couldn’t change it. Living in a beautiful place meant having money, and Credence knew well enough that no matter what he did, he’d never have  _ that _ kind of money. So his imaginings were limited to little things: it would be nice to have a ledge below the window where he could sit and look out. It would be nice to have high ceilings so he could pretend the shadows at night were really the night sky. I would be nice to have enough room for a desk and a bed, and maybe, if he was lucky, they wouldn’t touch. It would be nice to have enough room to gather blankets and pillows and stretch out on the floor, just for the fact that he could. He had never expected to get anything close to this, however, and that was only one, small, bitter truth he had swallowed. Yet, as he had learned in the past weeks, it’s possible for dreams to come true.

The room before him is  _ perfect _ . The windows take up almost the whole wall in front of him, a nook crafted just for sitting. A bed is against the wall to his right, complete with fitting blankets and sheets and two fluffed pillows. Against the opposite wall is a desk and a bookshelf, empty, but for some reason, Credence guesses it won’t be empty for long.

When he turns back to Tina, he flounders for words. 

“Do you like it?” She asks.

“Yes!”

“It was crafted from what, umm, we assumed you might like, or need. It’s magical, see. I thought it would be nice for you to have a place that is really your own, and this is it. I mean, it’s here, but not really here. President Picquery even helped me get the right permits and spells to craft it. I can show you, if you step outside.”

Tina ducks from the room and Credence follows her. She closes the door with a soft click and draws her wand from a pocket. She points it at the door, speaks words Credence thinks sound like Latin, and then the door shrinks until it vanishes. In its spot, a lone key clinks against the floor. Tina bends down to pick it up. She turns it over in her hands and then offers it to Credence. He takes it like it might burn him.

“That key is the room. You can carry it with you always. I thought it’d be nice, having a kind of a permanent home wherever you are.”

The key is shiny brass as Credence rolls it between his fingers, worried it might disappear. There are so many things he wants to say. He wants to thank Tina, to thank everyone, but under all the thankfulness is a rabid and deep fear that grips his insides and he finds he can’t speak the words he wants to. So instead, he asks a question.

“Why are you doing this?”

He doesn’t have any expectations of what kind of an answer he would get, but there’s something funny in the way Tina shifts and scratches the toe of her shoe across the floor.

“Don’t be angry, Credence, but I can’t tell you that right now.”

“Are you… going to use me?”

“Oh, no! No, no, no! We’re not going to use you, Credence, it’s just that things are complicated and I promise I’ll explain, but later, okay? I think it would be best if we talk about this with Director Graves, too. He’d… be better to explain the situation.”

“O-okay.” Credence gulps. Then another question pops into his head. “How will I be able to get into the room if I don’t know magic?”

“Oh, well, that kind of goes with the first answer.”

“I see.” Credence says, and he doesn’t try to hide the crestfallen tone from his voice. He looks down; Tina shoots her head up.

“We’re going to teach you, Credence.”

“What?”

“Yes. We’re all going to teach you. I can’t explain why right now, but we are. We will. And don’t feel like it’s charity, because that’s not it. I just can’t tell you all the details.”

There have been quite a few times in the span of a few hours that Credence has found himself unable to speak. Words just disappear. Unlike all the times before, his wordlessness is met with patience instead of rage. Instead of being berated for his uselessness and stupidity, he’s allowed to formulate a response.

“Thank you.”

And even if it isn’t a noteworthy response, no one chastises him for it.

“You’re welcome, Credence. Now, I can get your room back up and you can rest, if you want. Tomorrow we’re meeting with the Director and, well, you’ll learn more about… everything.”

“He’ll teach me magic?”

“Oh, yes.” Tina answers, taking the key from Credence. She sets it on the floor and commands it to grow. “We can start with small things tomorrow. He’ll be glad you’re eager to learn. I am. But, you… want to, right? If you don’t we’re not going to force you.”

“No! No, I mean I want to learn magic! I-I really do! I very much want to learn!” Credence bursts. He slaps a hand over his mouth once he’s done to keep him from spewing more nonsense. Mute one moment and rattling off anything the next--Ma hated that.

Tina smiles. 

“Wonderful! I’ll leave you to yourself for a while, then. If you need anything, come get me. Or Queenie. She’d know before you even stepped into the hall, anyway.”

Tina coughs into her hand, shifting like she might attempt a hug, but neither her nor Credence moves, so she turns away. Her steps are quiet down the hall. Before she’s halfway to the kitchen, she turns. 

“Welcome home, Credence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, be happy. I wrote this as procrastination for exams. *cries*  
> But I'm okay. I'll be fine. I really love this chapter and writing it helped calm me down. So yay for fluffy, nice, sunshiney themes! It's also a bit longer because I wrote it in multiple sittings.
> 
> And Credence's room is based off of Newt's suitcase, because, lol, I'm so original...

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp, late to the party for this one too. Damn. I would like to thank my friend for dragging me into this ship and another friend for having the movie recorded on DVR because I'd never seen it til yesterday... I'm a loser.
> 
> As for the story, I picture Credence around 17 and Percy around 41. Miss Ermine is an OC, and the inspiration for her look came from the ermine (animal). And as a disclaimer, I was a literal Barebone child: I never got to read Harry Potter when I was young so if there are canonical mistakes it's because of that reason. But I'm trying. ^^  
> Also, I don't know how regularly I can update this, as I have so many things going on in life. I also don't have a beta; all mistakes are mine alone.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Please leave kudos/comment and tell me what you think!


End file.
